


Take me now but know the truth

by space



Category: Hawaii Five-0 (2010)
Genre: Blow Jobs, First Time, Kevlar kink, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-02-21
Updated: 2011-02-21
Packaged: 2017-10-15 20:47:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,043
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/164796
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/space/pseuds/space
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Steve gets shot. Danny loses it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Take me now but know the truth

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the [H50 Cliche Meme](http://angelgazing.livejournal.com/282008.html) and posted for the H50 (President's Day) Fandom Blowout! (title from Bon Jovi's 'Blaze of Glory')

Danny'll never say it out loud, but it was truly like something out of the Matrix - time stretching, the buzz of bullets seeming to slow, vapor trails practically visible.

He saw Steve go down. Saw his partner's face transform from the SEAL-ninja-more-BAMF-than-anyone-else-on-(and-off)-the-planet type of focus into surprise, shock, pain. All things that should never be seen in the middle of a gunfight. Especially not on Steve.

And that's when Danny lost it. When all he wanted was to run to Steve and check him out and god dammit, hold him or kiss him or something completely fucked like that.

But no, he has scumbag assholes shooting at him, putting holes in his partner, trying to make Gracie fatherless.

And that just fucking won't do.

If he'd had a black duster and a pair of Ray Bans, the look would have been complete. Not that Danny cared. But he wiped the floor with the fuckers, picking up an extra gun on the way and firing two-handed, barrels flaring with fucking justified death. Mess with the bull...

.:.

It's all died down now and the near-silence is deafening. There are sirens in the distance, the cavalry always two minutes too late.

Danny looks down and sees that he has guns in both hands. Now-empty guns. What the ever living fuck?

And then he's dropping them and running to where he last saw his partner go down.

Fuck. Steve.

He finds him beside the shipping container they'd been rounding, flat on his back, unmoving.

 _Don't be dead. Don't be dead. Please._

Danny's heavy steps take him to his partner's side and he kneels, grabbing Steve's shoulders, not really shaking, but gripping, assessing.

"Steve!" His voice sounds raw, desperate. "Fuck, Steve, wake up!"

He presses two fingers to Steve's neck, tensing and closing his eyes, focusing on finding a pulse. Anything else is unacceptable.

There.

And there.

Slow, but steady.

God, he chokes back a sob of relief and cups Steve's cheek in one hand. "Steve? Steve, if you don't wake up now, I swear to God I'll fucking kill you myself."

His eyes track down his partner's body, finally looking for injuries, blood. He sees a darkened blob-shaped hole in Steve's vest.

Right above his heart.

His fingers are visibly shaking as he reaches to touch the shredded fabric, then pulls back, the area still warm enough to sting.

So fucking close.

"Danny-? Wh'appened?"

Danny huffs out a breath and tries to wipe the blatant emotion he's feeling off his face. "You got shot."

"Hurts." Steve groans, trying to raise up.

"Whoa. HPD just pulled up, gonna have a bus check you out first." Danny presses on Steve's shoulder, trying to keep him still. "Now, what hurts, exactly?"

Steve catches Danny's eyes. "I'm fine, chest just feels sore. Head hurts a little. Probably from going down." He tries on a grin. "Can I get up now, Mom?"

"Mom? Mom. You are so lucky I don't punch you in your god damn smug-ass face, McGarrett."

Steve's raising up and rolling to his feet, seemingly with his wits about him again and adrenaline flowing copiously. "Been there, done that, still have the ugly ass t-shirt."

Danny's body is rigid, tense. "Fuck you. No. You don't get to do that. Just. Fuck." And then he's walking away, not sure what emotion is weighing the most heavily right now.

Anger? Relief?

Who's he kidding? He's fucking mad as hell.

He's just pretty damn sure that it's mostly at himself.

.:.

Chin and Kono arrive at some point and Danny ignores their twin pointed looks when he charges them with making sure Steve gets checked out, while he ties up the loose ends of who's dead, who's injured, who got away. Then it's back to the office where paperwork tends to reproduce like it's a warren, and everything has to be triplicated, and fuck he needs a beer or twelve.

Danny's alone when Steve comes into HQ - it's late, and yet he's looking no worse for wear. Which is too god damn perfect. Man thinks he's fucking Superman, all in a day's work. And with him, it is. But one day, it's gonna...

Danny shakes that thought away and watches Steve stride closer.

He's holding his vest, gonna add it to the pile to be repaired. (And how sad is it that they have a fucking pile. How is this Danny Williams' life?)

But nothing in that pile is like this.

The others need to be cleaned, blood stains from a too-close graze or slice. Stitching repairs. Minor.

None of them need an entire new armor plate.

Before he knows what he's doing, before Steve can toss him an everything's-just-peachy smirk or say a damn word, Danny's voice rumbles low and raw across the office. "Put it on."

Steve raises his eyebrows and his jaw drops to say something.

"Put the god damn vest on." And Danny's up from the chair and across the room in three strides, mere inches between he and his partner, between his partner and the wall. "Or I'll put it on you myself."

"Dan-" but Steve's words are cut short by a menacing glare and a hand across his mouth.

Danny knows that if Steve really wanted to, he'd have him laid out on the floor in two seconds. And this time it'd be worse than just an arm twisted behind his back. But the fact that Steve allows himself to be backed against the wall and even makes the move of slipping his hand through the armhole of the vest - in the back of his mind, Danny acknowledges this as the go-ahead he needs.

This is going to god damn happen.

He uncovers Steve's mouth and steps back to let him pull the vest around him and up. Danny watches Steve's face the whole time, catching the slight wince of pain only from the tightening of his partner's mouth and crinkle at the edge of his eyes. Then it's gone.

Steve pulls the sides of the vest together, the velcro catching; not as tightly as protocol would demand though. Another sign of the pain in his chest.

Danny holds Steve's gaze for a moment. Steve's blue eyes are a deep dark cobalt, bordered in steel. There's no confusion there. Steve's starting to get pissed.

Good.

"I need you to know something." Danny begins, hands clenching and unclenching at his sides like warm-up calisthenics for the gesticular eruption that's inevitable. And Danny's a bit fuzzy on his game plan for how he's gonna get there - words and emotions like a F5 twister in his head tend to have that effect - but he knows exactly how this night is gonna end.

"Yeah, what's that? Danno." Steve's voice is tight, reined in, but not cold. Not resigned.

If anything, it's like he _wants_ this. Wants Danny to go off on him.

Danny acknowledges this mental _click_ and can't stop his slow-spreading smile, almost a grimace. His eyes trail over Steve: his arms hanging loose at his side, palms open, fingers spread. His back straight, stance emanating 'ready for anything'. His breathing controlled and almost too steady. His lips. His lips are slightly parted and as Danny stares, one side quirks a bit and he sees Steve's tongue flick across the bottom row of his perfectly aligned teeth.

"God." Danny can't stop himself. "You're just waiting for it, aren't you?" he whispers. "You fucking _want_ me to go off on you."

Steve's eyes narrow slightly as his smile curls upwards. "Never been able to stop you before. Why start now?"

And that's it. Danny's broken. And if it costs him everything, so be it. He'll work security somewhere or sell fucking shave ice on a corner, but this ends now.

Danny tells himself not to hesitate, it'll only make bad into worse. "I'm-" But then Steve licks his lower lip and Danny-- "Fuck Steve, I'm gonna kiss you now."

And he figures that's fair warning. With Steve's nanosecond reflexes, he could stop him if he really wanted. Danny's on his toes and Steve's mouth is under his, wet and warm and alive. So god damn alive.

Steve responds immediately and it nearly kills Danny right there, the slide of Steve's tongue along his, the press and nip and pull of his lips. How this kiss went from Danny initiating to Steve controlling in a matter of seconds. Not that he's fucking surprised.

And he decides he doesn't care as he presses into Steve from chest to hip and hears Steve groan as their cocks collide, feels the fucking electrifying rumble pass from his partner's chest to his through a god damn layer of Kevlar. His hand is cupping Steve's dick through his pants, cradling the rigid line and relishing the twitching spasms when he squeezes him.

He kisses Steve filthy, his tongue sliding in deep then pulling back before he scrapes his teeth along Steve's stubbled jaw and whispers, "I'm gonna suck your brains out through your dick, Steven. What few are left after your little stunt today."

He doesn't wait for a response, just starts unbuttoning Steve's pants as he sinks onto his good knee.

God, he hates buttonflies. He gets three open before just grabbing the waistband and jerking the cargoes the rest of the way down to Steve's ankles.

Steve's hands find him, one resting on his shoulder, the other curving into Danny's neck and hair, just behind his ear. Danny mouths over the hard cotton-covered line of Steve's cock, then pulls away the last barrier between them. Steve's dick springs free and nudges against Danny's neck as he nuzzles into the dark hair around his partner's base. "You're mine," he mouths against the side of Steve's cock.

And then he can't wait any longer, one hand gripping Steve's dick tightly, the other pulling him in by his hip and taking him deep in one smooth stroke.

He hears Steve mutter a string of curses ending with ' _god Danno, your fucking mouth_ ' and a choked off groan that Danny decides he wants to hear again and again. He pulls back, tongue swirling and busy, toying with Steve's slit, tasting him, sucking hard for more pre-come like it's life-giving - and he looks up, sees Steve's head tilted back against the wall, his eyes tightly closed, his mouth open. Fuck, he's beautiful.

Danny can feel Steve's hand on his shoulder, gripping his shirt tight, can feel the muscles in his partner's arm vibrating against him. He slips his fingers from Steve's hip up and underneath where the vest is not as tight as it would be for official business. Under Steve's t-shirt, under the vest, tracing up the lines of his abs, his chest, and pressing into that spot that he knows is tender, bruised, until Steve grunts with the pain, and looks down at him.

Danny can see his eyes filled with it; red-rimmed not with the physical pain, but with the knowledge of what today did to Danny. The cost of his partner seeing him go down like that. "God, Danny. God, I'm sorry. Fuck."

Danny closes his eyes and goes back in deep, but not before a tear leaks down one cheek.

He redoubles his efforts, giving Steve the messiest, wettest, fucking noisiest job he's ever given. His jaw aches with it, but it's delicious and so god damn good. Both hands on Steve's hips and he's pulling him until Steve just takes over and fucks into Danny's mouth and in a matter of moments is calling his name in warning, but Danny just takes him deep and swallows him whole.

Almost immediately, Steve's knees give and he slides down the wall and they collapse in a highly undignified heap. "Fuck, Danny, fuck" and he's reaching for Danny's belt and his fly and just pulling him out through his boxers and _oh fuck_ he has Danny's cock in his hand and starts jerking roughly before Danny feels like he's even settled. No such thing as settled.

It doesn't take long - _one, two, twist, four_ \- and Danny's coming hard. All over Steve's semi-hard cock, all over the vest.

The fucking vest that saved Steve McGarrett's life today.

And thereby saved Danny Williams' life as well.

  
 _fin_

.:.


End file.
